


Not To Blame

by sumnawaz



Category: Blood and Ash Series - Jennifer L. Armentrout
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26931835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumnawaz/pseuds/sumnawaz
Summary: Experiencing nightmares wasn't anything new for Poppy, had experience in coping with them. But when she has a nightmare of the night of the Rite for the first time, she's grateful to have Casteel by her side--whose own thoughts seem to be plaguing him as well.
Relationships: Poppy Balfour/Casteel Da'Neer, Poppy/Casteel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Not To Blame

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first ever piece i've written for the Blood and Ash series. i love Poppy and Cas so much and feel the need to write for them as i wait for the third book to come out. hope you enjoy! all characters belong to Jennifer L. Armentrout.

_“Forgive me.”_

  
_“I failed you.”_

  
The words echoed, thick in the air, thick just like the blood staining my hands—blood I so desperately wanted to force back into his body. But there was no use. The light in his eyes was gone, drifting shut, closed off from the world forever. I’d never see them again, those kind blue eyes that always made me feel safe, that reminded me of happiness and paternal love. They were gone. Gone, gone, gone. Just like him. Nothing left behind but a body with a hole impaled through and blood that burned my skin.

  
Vikter was gone.

  
And the air went everywhere but in my lungs and I couldn’t breathe. Screams rung in my ears—awful, shattering screams. Was that me? Was I screaming like I’d just had my heart ripped out? Yes. Yes, it was me. It was all I could do because Vikter was gone and nothing was okay anymore.

  
I was screaming and I couldn’t breathe. Was I dying, too? Maybe then I wouldn’t have to live a life without—

  
My eyes snapped open as a loud gasp sounded in my ears, body jolting yet not able to move more than an inch. I wasn’t in bed any longer. I was in a lap—Casteel’s lap as his achingly familiar scent of lush pine wrapped around me just as tightly as his arms were. Over the soft crackle of the fire and my labored breathing, I could hear his voice, softened to a gentle murmur, telling me it was okay. I was fine. I was safe. He was here.

  
_He was here._

  
My eyes squeezed shut, inhaling a shaky breath as I gripped his arms that held me, pressing myself closer to him as the steady beat of his heart under my cheek helped to calm me down. As usual, his presence and hold brought forth a sense of peace and comfort I couldn’t find elsewhere, and although the horrors of a nightmare that rang true still paralyzed me, Casteel’s hold was not something I’d ever reject.

  
I wasn’t sure how long we remained like that, with me in his lap as he held me, rocked us back and forth gently, lips murmuring gentle comforts. It was long enough to get my racing heart to calm down—long enough for the shock of the unforeseen nightmare to wear off and allow for the tears that had been burning the back of my eyes from being trapped there to finally wet my cheeks.

  
I didn’t even try to stop the quiet sobs from escaping me.

  
Although nightmares of the Craven attack weren’t anything I would get used to—they were still expected. That night was consistent with the subconscious assault on my mind. But tonight—this nightmare that made me relive yet another night that was the worst of my life—I hadn’t seen this coming. I hadn’t dreamed of Vikter before, especially not like this. The sheer surprise of it knocked me breathless, made it difficult to breathe. It was like reliving it all over again.

  
_Forgive me._

  
_I failed you._

  
I squeezed my already shut eyes tightly once more, chest feeling as though someone had wrapped a fist around my heart as a choked sob escaped me, pressing my face into Casteel’s chest. His bare chest I was wetting with my tears. He didn’t seem to care.

  
“Poppy,” he murmured quietly, one hand stroking my hair. “Talk to me. Please.”

  
I gripped one of his arms, fighting the urge to reach for my dagger under my pillow, as if holding my most treasured gift from Vikter would ward off any nightmarish thoughts. Instead, I clung onto my husband, onto the warm, solid feel of him.

  
My lips parted with another shaky inhale, focusing on his steady heartbeat. Trying to push out the images of the lack of light in Vikter’s blue eyes. Casteel waited patiently for me to speak, never once ceasing his hand stroking my hair, never once losing his hold on me. “Vikter,” I spoke hoarsely, realizing the rawness of my throat was due to whatever screams ripping from me that woke Casteel. I felt his muscles tighten when I spoke. “I-It was a nightmare from the night of the Rite. It was like...” My throat tightened, fresh tears welling in my eyes as I looked at the wrinkled sheets in the space where I had lay. “It was like watching him die all over again.”

  
“Gods, Poppy,” he breathed, lips pressing to the top of my head.

  
I swallowed, temple resting against his chest, the warmth of him seeping into me, relaxing me from the state of numbness the nightmare had driven me to. “It’s his birthday next week,” I murmured thickly, gaze blurred by the hot tears in my eyes. Gods, it hurt. It hurt terribly. “He would’ve been 45.”

  
The onslaught of tears was unforgiving and I could feel my body shake against Casteel’s solid form, his arms around me still tight. Vikter’s loss was something I carried since the night of the Rite; I mourned him every second of the day. But this—deeply feeling his loss to the point of being unable to breathe, feeling it shake my bones and settle so heavily on my heart—this wasn’t something I’d done before. I had spent the days after his death asleep, taking advantage of a sleeping drought, because it was better than truly feeling the grief and anger left behind by his death.

  
I can’t remember the last time I cried like this. Freely and heavily. And there was no embarrassment, there was no shame of having woken Casteel up with my screams and having him hold me so tightly, so closely. His embrace and the words he murmured in my ear were the only things capable of providing me with any semblance of comfort. It was him—just him. He didn’t need to say anything. Him holding me was enough.

  
I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that, with me settled in his lap and his arms protectively around me, but it must’ve been a while. It wasn’t until after my sobs had quietened to soft cries, the silence disturbed by my sniffling, when Casteel spoke up. His voice was low, gentle, as he asked, “Do you think you can go back to sleep?”

  
Yes? No? I wasn’t entirely sure, too afraid of the nightmares coming back, of seeing Vikter bleeding out and of hearing my own screams ringing in my ears. I gave a single nod, wiping at my cheeks. “Maybe.”

  
Casteel shifted then, arms still around me as he brought us back down to the mattress, lying on his back with me half on top of him. My cheek rested against his chest, body flush against his with his left arm around me while his right rested across his own body for his hand to settle on my hip. I could feel the cool band of his ring against my skin, the feel of it comforting.  
My throat felt thick from crying, and I didn’t close my eyes as I laid there. I felt my lips tremble as the words fell past them. “I miss him so much.” It felt like I never said it enough. I could never say it enough.

  
“I know, Poppy,” Casteel replied, his own voice quiet and heavy. He was silent for a moment, the hand that had been stroking my arm stilling to hold it. “I’m sorry,” Casteel whispered, and the heaviness in his voice wasn’t something I heard often. A heaviness racked with guilt and grief of his own. “If I could go back to that night and change things, I would. I’m... I’m so sorry.”

  
I pulled away from him, reluctant to put any space between us, propping up slightly on my elbow as I looked down to meet his gaze. His eyebrows were drawn together as he stared up at the ceiling, jaw tight, and I didn’t have to open myself up to him to know he felt guilt for that night. Knew that Vikter’s death was just one of many that stained his soul. My heart hurt—for Vikter. For Casteel. It hurt for everything.

  
“Don’t,” I whispered, reaching one hand to cup his cheek. The hard line of his jaw was sharp against my palm, the angled cheekbones smooth against my fingers. Casteel’s golden eyes met mine. “It’s not on you. Okay? It’s not.”

  
And it wasn’t. Maybe I hadn’t believed it at first, when I found out who he truly was, but I knew better now. His followers’ actions weren’t his own. He couldn’t control what every single one of them did, Dark One or not. I knew Casteel couldn’t just easily believe that, knew that it was difficult for him not to feel guilt over the innocent lives lost. He carried it with him, in him, and probably would for the rest of his life. Because he was good, whether he believed it or not. I would believe it enough for the both of us.

  
“He was your family,” Casteel said, his voice rough from sleep or guilt. Maybe both. Beautiful eyes shuttered with shame. “I took that from you.”

  
My heart squeezed, unsure if it was because of the reminder of Vikter’s death—not that it was something to ever forget—or that Casteel took the weight of his death onto himself. Maybe because of both. My hand that had been cupping his cheek slid up, brushing past the few strands of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead. “The one who used that sword against Vikter took him from me,” I corrected, voice as heavy as my chest. It wasn’t every day a man felt guilt over taking the life of his wife’s father figure. But such were our lives. “He’s the one to blame.”

  
Casteel’s gaze was on mine. Guilt still sat on my tongue, though not as acute, but the back of my throat tickled with something akin to awe. I could see it in his eyes as he looked at me. “I don’t understand how you look at me and don’t blame me for it.”

  
His voice was still quiet, the words spoken reluctantly—like he was half afraid of what I could say. If the air wasn’t so somber, if our hearts weren’t so heavy, I may have hit him for his doubt. But it was understandable. “Because I know you’re _not_ to blame,” I told him honestly, leaning in just enough for my nose to brush against his. His arm around me tightened. “Because I know it was out of your control.” His jaw tightened, lashes lowering. My fingers were still in his hair, gently brushing them back. “And because I love you.”

  
Casteel let out a shuddering breath, and I swore I could feel his body tremble against mine before he tilted his chin up just enough to capture my lips with his. He kissed me slowly, sweetly, pouring into the kiss the same sentiment I had uttered, and the heaviness in my heart lightened. We pulled away too soon, and Casteel pulled me back down to lay against him, arms returning around me once more. I closed my eyes as I felt the steady thrum of his heart beneath my cheek.

  
“We could do something,” Casteel broke the silence. “On Vikter’s birthday, if you like. Celebrate him.”

  
My heart squeezed, though not painfully this time. That was such a sweet idea. I knew Vikter’s birthday would be a day full of memories coming back; it would hurt but it would also be welcomed. He wouldn’t want me to spend the day, or any day, crying in my grief for him. “I would like that,” I told Casteel, a small smile tugging at my lips.

  
He kissed the top of my head. “Then we’ll do it.”

  
We would. I would. For Vikter, I would. With Casteel, I would.


End file.
